The misery of Irma: Leaving, returning home a nightmare

The Nelander family hits bumper-to-bumper traffic on I-16 near Dublin, Ga., while returning to Florida from Tennessee. Photo courtesy of John and Betty Nelander

It was not a dark and stormy night but it might as well have been. The Thursday before Hurricane Irma struck Florida, we had completed the boarding-up of our home but had a decision to make: Weather the storm at home or leave for safer harbors.

The first option was our preference. But Thursday and Friday forecasts had Irma plowing up the East Coast as a strong Category 4 hurricane. We’d put in our share of time dealing with Category 1 and 2 hurricanes — but did we want to sit through a nerve-wracking direct hit from a Category 4?

We had two “safety valve” options. One, we booked a flight from Orlando to our daughter’s home in Baltimore for Saturday. And two, we booked a hotel room in Fort Myers, 100 miles west of where the center of Irma was forecast to go.

Late Thursday night, the flight was canceled. And the new forecast track took Irma right up the spine of the state. That took Fort Myers off the table, and required a Plan C.

We would drive to a relative’s house in Tennessee, a little northwest of Chattanooga, far from Irma’s reach.

We left at 4 a.m. Friday but Florida’s Turnpike was an exhausting stop-and-go (mostly stop). We knew I-75 would be a parking lot, so we opted for a state road along Florida’s northwest coast. Traffic would be more accommodating.

That was myth No. 1. We faced white-knuckled traffic conditions. Hot-dog drivers were weaving in and out and racing down shoulders while sirens blared and emergency vehicles whizzed by.

Long lines for restrooms with rationed toilet paper began taking a toll on our progress, and day turned quickly to night. What is normally a 12- to 13-hour drive to Tennessee became out of reach, and we opted for a motel room on Florida’s northwest coast. There, we were told by the manager that a sheriff’s deputy could knock on our door anytime during the night with an evacuation order.

We didn’t wait and left at 2 a.m. after a few hours of sleep. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper on the state road we’d chosen. Although it was four lane, traffic was backed up at entrances to gas stations, further jamming up the traffic.

We used the smart phone GasBuddy app to determine which stations had gas. Most did not. At one station, we had just finished pumping the last drops of gas into our car when a manager began waving his hands and yelling: “Out! We’re out!”

By Friday, the National Hurricane Center had settled on an Irma track up the West Coast. Should we head back home? We were by that time starting to get closer to I-65 in Alabama, which would take us to our Tennessee destination. Turning around and heading back south was tempting … but what if Irma did the unexpected?

We plowed ahead with the plan, pulling into the drive of our Tennessee relative’s country home late Saturday — 30 hours after leaving West Palm Beach.

Time spent with relatives was soothing. After the storm, a neighbor sent us video of our street. We were spared, although later learned a tornado

The trek back to West Palm Beach was delayed by a day because Irma was now ravaging Georgia. On Monday night, fringe effects of the storm swept through southern Tennessee, whipping the trees and dumping soaking rains.

We left before dawn on Tuesday, but had to exit I-75 for state roads because interstate traffic going south was virtually stopped. Two out of three cars had Florida plates.

Even on back roads, deep in Georgia, Floridians were everywhere, trying to get home. We made it to I-95 and the Georgia coast 14 hours after leaving Tennessee. Even late-night traffic was a nightmare and gas availability spotty. All hotels were booked, so there was nothing to do but drive through the night toward South Florida.

The last exits in Georgia were closed, a National Guard jeep posted at each one. Cars lined the road and jammed rest areas — motorists who were just too wiped out to go on. Or perhaps they were trying to preserve the last few gallons of car fuel.

We beat the sunrise home, but barely.

In the event of another powerful hurricane, driving will be last on our list. Booking at a well-built higher-end hotel makes sense. Staff can be exceptionally accommodating in an emergency and we’d be surrounded by other people in the same boat.